


The Wings of an Angel Don't Hold Answers

by iwachans



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: A little angst, Akumatized Marinette, But also, Cinderella AU, F/M, FIRST FINISHED FIC SINCE MY WRITERS BLOCK AAAA, Gen, No superheroes, based of a fanmade cendrillon pv ill link it, but not u know what im sayin, cendrillon (vocaloid) au, im dying its 1 am, mentions of tikki chloe and alya once or twice but not really important, mentions of weapons and attempted murder but not graphic, sort of bent the rules of the akumas/ miraculouses just a little bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwachans/pseuds/iwachans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the strike of midnight and a blade, the magical fairytale falls apart<br/>or<br/>A Cendrillon AU where an akumatized Marinette is given her own fairytale, in exchange for a life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wings of an Angel Don't Hold Answers

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaaaa i haven't written anything in such a long time and im so happy !! it took maybe 3 days to write but it was worth it  
> inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkA4gyJrs5s  
> ive fallen in love with ladynoir so much i love ml so much please h elp
> 
> (also not sure how accurate it is in terms of the culture of the time period since i was mainly aiming for around the 1700's so let me know if i had gotten a couple things wrong so i can tweak it! thanks)

     The girl trembles in the cold carriage, moonlight being the only source of light to keep the darkness away. The light flurries of snow outside makes her pull her shawl tighter around her bare neck and shoulders, attempting and failing to suppress her shivers. A faint glow surrounds her eyes, and the image of Hawkmoth appears in her mind as he speaks to her.

     “Ah, Ladybug, you understand your task, correct?” The knife tucked carefully into the folds of her skirt suddenly feels heavy, but she nods.

     “Good. Do not forget, bring me what I need. Fail me, and this magical night you’ve desired for so long will be ripped from your hands in an instant.” The violet light fades, along with the voice, and Marinette feels even more alone. She stares out the window of the carriage as the enormous estate appears in the distance. Despite her giddy excitement, fear grips her between its teeth. Hawkmoth had given her a chance to be someone entirely different from Marinette, the girl who spent her life working non-stop; just attending the ball would be her dream come true, she longed to laugh and dance throughout the night instead of being on her feet until late and dreading the morning when the routine looped as usual. 

     Yet, he wanted her to murder someone. Taking another person’s life, how could she do it? She ached to speak to Tikki and seek comfort in the small deity, but she had disappeared despite the earrings still in Marinette’s possession. Since Hawkmoth had first introduced himself and proposed to give her the girl’s greatest desires, the kwammi had been silent. Fear stirred in her, and she wished someone was there to guide her into the right direction; now she only had herself to rely on. 

     The carriage halts abruptly, and Marinette stumbles out. The horses pulling the carriage snuffle impatiently and she smiles and reaches out to stroke the lead stallion’s mane. The five white horses whinny and rear away from her, and a hurt Marinette retracts her hand. It was as if they knew that she was going to commit an unspeakable crime. Dejectedly, the girl turns around and her heart pounds at the sight of the Agreste Chateau. 

     The garden was blooming with large rose bushes of every color, brilliant hues ranging from red to lavender, and the light from inside beamed on them, the dew drops on their petals almost make them glint like diamonds. Hedges were trimmed into unusual shapes, from towering leaf elephants to an angel with her wings spread and head bowed in prayer. The breathtaking display makes the  ecstatic ravenette grin like a child, and she hastily lifts the hem of her skirt as she runs into the manor.

     Inside the chateau is somehow even more dazzling. Elegant women dressed in big, beautiful dresses laughed and danced with handsome men in gallant, colorful suits. An orchestra played a vibrant tune, the violins spiritedly playing a quiet, legato melody contrasting with the loud, high staccatos of the clarinet and flute. The pianist’s fingers seemingly float over the keys, and the overall sound ignites a cheerful fire in Marinette, and she restrains herself from losing herself in it and dancing the night away. The ballroom was so large and full of life, and she wanted to drink in the entire sight. 

     Her grin is as bright as the chandelier’s light as she weaves her way through the crowded room; in her frantic efforts to capture every inch of the party, she walks right into a sturdy chest and nearly falls to the floor. A firm hand grasps her wrist and pulls her to her feet, apologizing hastily.

     “Forgive me, mada-” The stranger’s breath hitches, and Marinette does a once over of the man. He’s tall and lean, his suit was ebony black, contrasting with the other men’s reds and whites and greens, and she couldn’t help but silently admire the handiwork of the clothing. She glances up to his head of blond hair, the shine of his hair almost creating the illusion of a halo hovering above him. Finally, she focuses on his face, a faint glow underneath his black mask. His emerald green eyes meet those as blue as the heavens, and his heart stops. Regaining his composure, he smiles and reaches for her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Marinette rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips turn upward at the display.

     “My apologies, my lady,” he says, unable to tear his eyes away from hers, “I did not mean to do harm. Please, won’t you tell me your name?”

     Marinette answers hesitantly, “Ladybug.”

     He’s surprised at such a name, but grins in a catlike manner. “Then I suppose you can call me Chat Noir. My lady, will you allow me to make this up to you with a dance? Watch, I promise I’ll sweep you off your feet.” 

     Chat Noir bows, and Marinette frowns, scanning for the object of her affections in the crowd. Not catching a glimpse of him, she shrugs and curtsies.

     “I’d like to see you try, kitty cat.”

     The brilliant smile he gives her makes her laugh as he takes her hand and leads her eagerly to the dancefloor. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a fuming Chloe, and she wishes Alya was here to see the look on the girl’s face. That thought is interrupted when an arm snakes around her waist and Chat holds her right hand in his left. Immediately Ladybug’s confident personality is smothered by Marinette’s shyness.

     “A-ah, I, um. . .” The girl stutters, “I’ve never danced before. I don’t how how to, Chat.”

     “Follow my lead, buginette. I’ll guide you.”

     As they twirl and spin to the orchestra’s performance, Marinette feels lighter than a feather. Since she could remember, she had spent most of her time working with her parents, and when they passed, she devoted her life to balancing working as an off and on housemaid for the Bourgeois family and keeping the family bakery afloat with her also grieving aunt. But on the ballroom floor, her troubles melted away for the first time in her life. All that mattered was the music in the air and the cat beaming down at her like she was the center of his world. 

     “Please, my lady. Where do you reign from? Surely I would have noticed such a beautiful little bug like you around here,” Noir asks her as they continue to dance, and she can practically see his tail swishing excitedly around him. 

     “No, kitty. Not here,” She replies, her eyes narrowing. The blond pouts.

     “What if we _chat-_ ted outside? It is too loud in here, after all. We could have peace and quiet in the gardens.”

     Marinette rolls her eyes, but nods her head, and he perks up. Before she could protest, he’s dashing into the garden with her arm in a tight grip. She snorts, and can’t help but think that he resembled a stray alley cat running from an angry butcher after being caught stealing from his shop. 

     The hours ticked by as quickly as minutes as they talked animately in the safehaven of the roses. They almost immediately open up to each other, and in the span of three hours, Marinette feels like she knows him almost as well as herself. 

     As they speak, a gust of cold wind sends a spike of ice up her spine, and she longs for the shawl she abandoned in the carriage. Chat notices, because he drapes his arm over her shoulder and pulls her closer to him, ignoring his bright red face. 

     “C’mon. You’re cold, so let’s go back inside, okay?”

     She nods, but her gaze is affixed to the ring on his right hand, gleaming in the faint light of the chateau. Something tells her to not glance behind her, keep moving forward, but she disobeys. In the roses and sheltered by darkness, she can only make out the outline of a doctor’s mask, the one that signaled the pain and suffering plague left in its wake. The mask that reminded Marinette of death. She can hear Hawkmoth whisper from nowhere.

     “ _ Get the ring. _ ”

     The ravenette freezes and watches the figure disappear into the garden, trembling by Chat’s side. He lifts her chin so their eyes meet, and he stares down at her in concern.

“My lady, are you unwell? Come on, it’s warmer inside. It’ll definitely warm you up, I promise.”

She jerks her head away and shouts, “Get away!”

He’s taken aback, but disobeys her command and attempts to get closer.

     “Tell me what’s wrong, please?”

     Marinette’s head feels like it’s going to split as the thought  _ Get the ring, get the ring!  _ screams in her thoughts. The knife in the folds of her skirt feels colder than the air, and she yanks it out of her dress. 

     Her mind wages war with itself, one screeching at her to fetch the ring and take it to Hawkmoth, and the other side begging herself to not do it. But it’s too late, she’s already raised the blade and thrust it down with trembling hands, the knife sinking into his chest.

* * *

     Or at least, that was supposed to happen. Hot, guilty tears fall from her masked face and onto her glass slippers as Chat gapes at her, his hand ghosting over the torn fabric and the slight bleeding from the arm he raised in defense.

     “Ladybug?” He brushes the tears away, and it’s so quiet they could hear the orchestra from the garden. “Don’t cry. It was only a fleshwound, okay? I’m going to be fine, I’m not mad.”

     Marinette responds with a sniffle. Smirking, Chat brushes the hair from her forehead and plants a light kiss on her temple; she flushes a bright red the same shade as her dress, and he laughs and links arms with her, leading her back into the ballroom.

A migraine takes the girl by surprise and she doubles over in pain as Hawkmoth’s voice returns as loud as a thunderclap.

  “ _No! You were supposed to get that ring_!” He growled. “ _You have failed me, so now I’m going to rip this fairytale apart page by page_!”

     Almost immediately, the clock strikes midnight, and Marinette’s overcome with an almost animal instinct to flee. The girl searches for an exit, her hair frantically flying around her face. She turns around and catches a glimpse of her carriage on the other side of the garden, and tenses. Marinette flashes Chat an apologetic glance.

     “We will meet again, I promise,” She states, and then she breaks into a sprint. He protests and attempts to pursue her, but he can’t match her sudden burst of adrenaline. Hesitantly, he slows to a stop in front of a dainty, transparent glass slipper, and he’s left to return to the party with a heavy heart and a promise that he would remember for every night to come, the shoe tucked carefully into his suit pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> :'-)  
> I might write a second part that follows the original cinderella story w/ the glass slipper if people want me to (I might anyways for myself but lmk if you'd like to read it!!) srry fr weird formatting m too lazy to fix it lmao


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